


Alright

by cowboykylux



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Archaeology, Egyptology, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, Historical References, Library Sex, Oral Sex, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:41:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23875606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: As an expert Egyptologist on an excavation trip to uncover what you can from the newly discovered King Tut's tomb, you find yourself paired up with none other than the (in)famous archaeologist Kylo Ren. He is brash, rogue, insufferably charming and completely unprofessional. You want nothing to do with him. That's a lie, you want everything to do with him, but you can't let him know that.And one evening when you both find yourselves in an ancient library, things take a turn.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Comments: 20
Kudos: 107





	Alright

It’s quiet, in the library. You’d snuck in, jimmied the lock of the back door. There was something on your mind, something you needed to look at, that was hidden on one of the shelves. It’s quiet, save for your dinner party heels clicking on the tiled floor, the beads of your dress shimmering and rustling against one another.

The party had been grand -- or was swanky the term? Bright golden brass of jazz filled your ears, but something was off, it had been bothering you all day. You wanted another look at those translations, wanted to read and re-read them again. It couldn’t wait, you simply had to get access to them, had to stare over the hieroglyphs once more.

The clicking of your heels grow faster in the library, though you don’t walk at a quicker pace. Frowning to yourself, you hide around the corner of a bookshelf, worrying for a moment that you’ll be caught, that you’ll be reprimanded – thrown off the excavation team. You hold your breath, but in the low light of candles, you see the strong and wide back of a man you’d recognize anywhere.

“What are you doing here?” You ask Kylo, because of course it’s Kylo, of course it is.

He’s sitting at one of the research benches, typing away something with great passion. For a moment you regret interrupting his thought, but he doesn’t halt in his ministrations. In fact, he even reaches up and takes a drag from his cigarette, continues to type with one hand.

“Practicing my spelling.” Kylo replies in a deadpan manner that you’ve come to learn is him joking. Still half-hidden behind the bookshelf, Kylo doesn’t bother to turn around to look at you when he remarks, “I should ask the same of you, Doctor.”

“It’s just late, that’s all.” You ignore his would-be question. You and Kylo are equals on the team, you don’t need to explain yourself to him, you don’t report to anyone. But the truth is it _is_ late, and you had hoped no one would be in the library, no witnesses to you breaking the rules.

“That it is.” Kylo replies, once again offering nothing of substance. Or maybe, everything of substance.

You can’t ever seem to tell with the man.

Kylo resumes his typing, and you stand there feeling foolish. You’d come with a plan, and you intended to see it through, at least for an hour or two. Now, where was that book? You began to browse the shelves, looking for the faded cover you had poured over not two days prior. You wonder what he’s typing so furiously, wonder what could be so important.

“You know, to be an early riser is one thing, to be a night owl is another. It cannot be good for someone to be both.” You say, and this does make Kylo stop.

“And here I thought you didn’t like me.” He gets up from the research table then, and you hold your breath.

He is heading straight for you, and damn it all, your heart begins to quicken with each step he takes. You don’t fear him, no not at all. Your feelings are hurt by him, and you feel foolish letting them interfere with anything at all. Does he know what he does to you? The way he makes you feel? He can’t possibly, or he would have done something by now.

So, you tip your chin up defiantly and hold his handsome gaze evenly and simply say, “I don’t. I just don’t want you to be more irritable than normal out in the field tomorrow.”

But Kylo, damn damn damn Kylo, he smiles, and crosses his arms over his chest. His sleeves are rolled up and you can see his impressive forearms, and you try your hardest not to eye the way the veins in his strong hands stand out, the way his muscles flex. You fail.

“I’m taking that as a sign that you like me.” Kylo says softly, teasingly, playfully.

“Well don’t.” You snap, and his eyes soften when you walk away.

Kylo blessedly walks in the opposite direction, back to the bench, back to where his typewriter has been left mid-sentence, mid-word. You think this is the end of his game, but he clears his throat, smokes some more.

“It’s over here, the translations.” He says, a cursed mind reader if you’ve ever met one. He holds up the book in his hand and you turn quickly, the beads of your evening gown jingling softly against one another. You set your jaw as he smiles, knowing you too well when he says, “If that’s what you’re after.”

“Thank you, pass them this way?” You ask, reaching out a hand.

“No, you’ll have to come and get it.” Kylo shakes his head, and you groan as your heels click all the way over to him.

He holds the books out of your reach, exploits his height so you have to come closer, and you do, you do you do you do; until you’re pressed up against him, one hand bracing on his chest, the other reaching for the book. It’s only then that he lets you have it.

You don’t move away.

“Do you always have to be,” You lick your lips, your lips which are so close to his, “So difficult?”

And damn him, he’s so handsome, so charming, so challenging. He’s a challenge, and one that you love to meet, one that you always hope to best. He’s so smart, and he knows it. You’re smart too. He’s handsome in the way that he winds his arm around your shoulder, brings the cigarette to his lips once more and inhales a great big lungful of it.

“If it excites you,” He says on the exhale, smoke catching in the low light of the candles, eyes sparkling with mirth, with something…something else, something you don’t dare put a name to, “Then yes.”

There’s a choice then, a choice to be made. You have the book, you could pull away from this man, this professor, this genius. You could pull away and go sit at the other end of the bench and pour over the translations like you’d planned. You could ignore him and his type writer and his cigarette and do what you came to do.

Or.

Or you could lean into the embrace, could close your eyes, could press your lips against his. You could kiss him, you’re already so close, you’ve wanted to for so long. He’s so much, and you want all of it. You could have it, if you make that choice. He smells incredible, like tobacco and ink and mystery of all thing. He was a mystery, an enigma. You breathe him in, and he lets you, he gives you time.

You don’t take long, before your desire for him wins out, and you close your eyes, hoping hoping hoping that he gets the hint, that he feels the same, that he wants you too.

Birds flutter in your veins when you feel the warmth of his mouth on yours, you could nearly burst into song. Your lips part in a gasp, and he takes the invitation to deepen the kiss, to bring it from something chaste to something more, something passionate. You let your arms loop around his proud shoulders, feeling the worn fabric of his vest, of his button-down, the soft waves of his hair. His hair oh heavens, is exactly as silky as you’d always dreamed.

He bites on your lower lip then, and you moan ever so gently. Ever so slightly. It sends Kylo into a frenzy almost, a haze of lust and want. He grasps you by the waist and lifts you up so that you sit atop the table, pushing aside papers and books and journals for your body to rest. He kisses you and kisses you again, his hands are so large as they cup your face!

You can’t take it, you won’t deny yourself this any longer. Your hands fumble with the buttons on his vest in the dark and he understands, he knows what you want, he unclasps the hook at the back of your dress and eases the zipper down down down.

“Here?” You whisper, shivering from something other than cold, as he slides the slinky fabric away from your body, takes the sight of you in.

“Yes, yes if you’d like, only if you’d like.” Kylo kisses your neck, your shoulders, as he peels away your gown and reveals your silk camiknicker underneath. His hands dance across your body, unsure of where he’s allowed to touch, unsure of what he’s allowed to have. He swallows hard but looks at you soft, “We can – my rooms are not far.”

You can’t bear the thought of stopping this now, not now, so you shake your head, stand up for a moment so that you can strip down properly. Sliding the undergarments off your body, you are left naked to him, save for your stockings. He doesn’t take them off, doesn’t wish to remove them and you don’t mind – you feel so sultry like this, standing there in the library in just the stockings.

“This is good.” You breathe, work on getting him down to nothing as well, perhaps leaving him in his sock garters and nothing more so that you two might match. You laugh then, cover your mouth with your hands from sheer excitement, “This is, fuck Kylo, I’ve _always_ wanted to do this.”

“What, sex in a library?” He teases as he steps out of his trousers, as his layers fall to the floor. “Or sex with me?”

You eye him then, get a proper eyeful of him. He’s so well defined, David before you. But unlike David, well. His cock is far more impressive as it fills out in his hand. He’s shy about it, about his size, about this whole thing you realize, as in the candlelight you can see splotches of embarrassed flush across his chest, his ears.

“Both.” You nod, allowing him this, encouraging him to step forward, encouraging him to take you.

“Shall we kill two birds with one stone then?” He murmurs against your lips as he pushes you gently, ever so gently back against the table, encourages you to lie down.

“Yes, yes Kylo please.” You grasp for him, part your legs for him.

Before he steps between them though, he reaches down to the ground and grabs a hold of his vest, rolls it into a makeshift pillow and sweetly tucks it underneath your head. The gesture makes your chest clench, for it is more tender than anyone has ever done for you in a long long time.

His hands touch you first, before anything else. They slowly make their way down your body, naked and beautiful and all for him. Calloused palms, an archaeologists palms, caressing your flesh. He kneads at your tits for a moment or two, enchanted by the way his hands hold them so nicely. He bends himself over you, licks a long stripe up your sternum, thumbs rubbing at your nipples.

“Kylo.” You whine, impatient, and he smirks.

You can feel it against your ribs where he sucks a mark that’ll only be there for the two of you to see, a hidden something underneath your breast, just below your heart. But still he moves down down down, your stomach tensing, breath catching in your throat.

You’d expected a hard and fast fuck, not this, not something so caring, so sincere. He kisses down your stomach, noses at your thigh before kneeling on the bench and using the leverage there to wind his arms around your thighs, letting your knees squeeze at his head, as he takes the first taste of your wanting pussy.

“Oh!” You gasp, a hand flying down to take a fistful of his hair.

Your hips lift for him, want to be closer, want him to do more to take more to taste more. You’re so wet, you can feel it, can hear it as his tongue slides through your folds, as he swallows down whatever you give him. He moans into your pussy, tongue licking flat and broad before rolling it into you, trying to get closer.

Your heels dig into the muscles in his back, as you cling to him, as you arch your back for him, as you open yourself up for him. He goes straight for your clit, sucks on it hard, and you’re nearly jackknifing up from the shock of pleasure which ripples across your stomach. You feel like your nerves are filled with those pretty beads, feel like they’re shimmering up and down your spine.

Your cunt clenches around the emptiness, missing his tongue – when suddenly fingers enter you, stretch you nice and slow.

“Kylo I need – give me more,” You insist, and he pulls away. You tug on his hair because _no_ , that’s the opposite of what you asked for, but he only smiles.

“My beautiful girl,” He says as he fingers you, as you moan around the squelch of your slick on his hand, “You’ll get what you want, I promise. You have to trust me, have to let me take care of you, prepare you.”

You huff and puff and moan and groan and whine and writhe on the table, papers sticking to your body, fluttering around you as the candles burn softly, as he touches you with reverence you’d only seen him hold in artifacts. 

“But – ” You start, and he only shakes his head, seeks out something inside you with those fingers. There’s only two in you, no, now three, but you feel filled to the brim, like you can’t possibly take any more.

“I know, just a little longer, and then I’ll blow your back out, fuck you dumb.” He assures you, and oh that sounds so delicious, the prospect of emptying your head of all your thoughts aside from the feeling of pleasure.

His cock is hard and thick and curves up deliciously, is dangerously hard, leaking all over your thigh where it’s rubbing against you as Kylo prepares you, as he readies you for it. You know that it’ll be worth it, this wait. Hell, you’ve waited months for this moment, you could wait a few moments more.

Still you whine and pout and cry, and it breaks down his resolve, his hips starting to buck against you when he makes you shout out his name loud loud loud – he’s found it, found the spot inside you which makes light sing through your veins.

“Just a little longer, I promise.” He whispers, pushing and pulling his fingers back over the spot more and more, harder giving you only some of what you want but not nearly enough.

He has expert hands and they work you well, they work you open and stretch you. Your hands have a death grip in his shoulders, and you almost wish he were fingering you in his bed like he offered, so that you might have a pillow to bite into, or sheets to grasp.

And right when you’re about to come, right when you can feel it, right when the heat in the pit of your stomach starts to wash over you – he pulls away, replaces those fingers with that cock of his, pushes it into you right up to the hilt.

“Fuck!” You shout, “Oh fuck, Kylo! Yes!”

It is perfect, the way he thrusts hard, the way the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes up into the rafters of this ancient library, in this ancient city, as you commit an act of passion older than the test of time. Oh how he is passionate, oh how he kisses you even as he curses too, as he grunts out his lust, face contorted into searing hot pleasure that your pussy can only provide.

“You’re so tight,” He thrusts hard hard hard, knocking the table across the floor an inch, two inches, three, “So wet, hot, fuck you’re made for me, made for my cock.”

“Dammit Kylo I’m – fuck you, we could have been doing this this whole time,” You lament with no real malice as you throw your head back, as you push your chest up for him. He sucks on your nipple, fucks you hard, makes you sweat and moan, “We could have had this the whole time.”

“IknowIknowIknow,” He groans into your chest, the baritone exploding through your body, goosebumps raising as he moans loud. He smacks a palm onto the table, makes the typewriter jump, makes one of the keys clack randomly just from the force of it, “Oh jesus, shit (Y/N), I’m – ”

“Don’t you dare!” You protest as his body covers yours completely, as he stretches his back out handsomely, his height meaning your face is now pressed against his chest as he fucks you, hands gripping your hips to hold you in place. You lightly swat at the side of his stomach, toes curling around his hips, “Not yet, please not yet.”

Oh his cock shoves into your pussy beautifully. If you were made for him, then this cock was made for you, just for you.

You clench around it, hold it deep inside you, shifting your hips and trying to get him to find that spot again. He’s hunting for it, you can tell with the way he props himself up above you, can tell he’s looking for it too with the determination that’s set across his face.

When he finds it, you come right away. Your body jolts under his, your thighs quake, your throat clicks as you scream out his name. His hips slam into you and stop thrusting, just pushing deeper deeper deeper into you as he comes, as his orgasm hits him too. He pants and collapses on top of you, exhausted.

It really was late, you think deliriously, drooling all over yourself as you feel the pulse and throb of his cock spending itself inside of you. There’s enough space between your bodies for Kylo’s hand to smooth itself over your lower stomach, to rub there. It’s incredibly sweet, and if you had any brain cells left working, you just might cry about it.

You ride out the high of your orgasms, turn to kiss his face. You don’t want to go back to the aloof tension that existed before, you don’t want that. But now that this is over, now that you’ve both expelled some of the build up between you, what was to come next?

He pants above you, leans down and steals a sweet kiss from your lips.

“I missed you, at the party.” You find your voice to whisper, your hands smoothing up his back and combing through his hair. “You should have been there. People were asking about you.”

“They were asking you about me?” Kylo smiles, sex drunk and tired.

“Yes, they assumed you would have accompanied me.” You nodded, sighing, reminding yourself of why your feelings were hurt in the first place. He looks at you with a worried frown, kisses the side of your nose and moves some hair out of your eyes with a gentle hand. “I… Don’t laugh, but I sort of assumed you would have as well.”

“But you don’t like me.” Kylo says, making you burst into laughter because _oh_ how could he be so brilliant and yet so dense?

“No,” You chuckle, and he grins, and you grin, and he kisses you once more, twice more, simply because he can, because you’ll let him, even as you laugh and shake your head and lie, “I don’t.”

“Come back to my rooms with me.” Kylo whispers, so quiet now in the library.

It’s late, and the translations are all but forgotten now, all gone. It’s late, and you don’t like Kylo, no. No it’s something far closer to love, isn’t it?

“Alright.” You say, and his eyes widen, as if he were afraid of your rejection, as if you’d reject him after this.

“Alright?” He asks, because he has to make sure, has to know you’re not toying with him.

But this isn’t a game, not anymore. The cat has caught the mouse – but which one was which? You’re not so sure anymore, not sure who was pursuing whom, who was winning. In the end, you’re both winners, aren’t you?

You breathe together, simply savoring the moment; the cigarette stubbed out and the candles thinly smoking, the typewriter abandoned and the papers scattered about the bench. You nod. You nod and you kiss him and there in a library near the Valley of The Kings, a new relationship has blossomed, a partnership in every sense of the word, when you whisper,

“Alright.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to turn into a whole fic I swear but for now please enjoy this bit of writing while I lament over how many WIPs I have lmao !


End file.
